Flawed Design
by sakuyavalentine
Summary: Microfic collection.
1. Flawed Design : AlexisAugusta

**Flawed Design**

.

"when I was a young boy, I was honest

and I had more self control.

If I was tempted I would run…"

- "Flawed Design" - _Stabilo_

_._

He couldn't recall how he'd known. Perhaps he'd always known, as he was certain that no one had ever told him.

But then he decided - like many things - he wished he didn't. Knowledge was helpful, but most often it was hinder some. He would have preferred to have remained blissfully oblivious to the grotesqueness of his natural feelings. His flawed design.

His want for her, the woman with the same eyes as he, the same hair - only longer - and snowy white skin. She deserved more love than could be provided by a nobleman with only the desire of wealth in his heart. Every crooked smile could stop his heart, smiles laden with desperation, and perhaps an inkling of …

No, most certainly not.

She was a goddess, his goddess alone. A devil with an angels wings, she deserved the same sinful delights that she radiated, the kind that pushed him closer to the endless abyss of despair and sadness. The kind that weakened his knees and drove his unstable mind spiralling further down to the flames of hell, that excited his senses in a way no drug ever could.

A twisted love, a flawed love, he was sure it was. But it was love all the same.


	2. Pieces : Riff Raffit

**Pieces**

.

"…a broken mess, just scattered pieces of who I am.  
I tried so hard, thought I could do this on my own.  
I've lost so much along the way…"

- "Pieces" _- Red_

.

When they ask why he'd done it, he likely couldn't tell them why. In fact, he'd probably tell them it wasn't his fault.

Those men in their unstained lab coats, clipboards beneath their arms, were the only ones who came to visit him. Of course it was only them, he mused, tracing the bandage around his hand with a finger, for there was no one else left. His family was dead, and Lucinda…well, she was long gone.

They came at the same time everyday, a little after noon and sped through their regular routine. As he was examined by cold, calloused hands, his bandages changed and wounds cleaned, they inquired how he was feeling. Any headaches or pains? Did he know what time it was - of course not, not without a clock - or was he feeling light-headed, perhaps depressed - of course, he's just lost his entire family.

And then, once again, the questions began. Their soft tone, the tone a tutor always had whenever speaking to a young child, would do well to fool a madman, but Riffael Raffit was no madman. He could detect the subtle accusation in their speech, the belief that they already had the answers. This was only a courtesy, an attempt to acquire a false confession.

He was always adamant when he answered them. He remembered little of that day but he knew he was innocent. It was his brother who set the fire. It was no one's fault, when you thought about it. Clyde surely hadn't intended on killing his parents and himself; it was an accident, really. An argument that spiralled out of control.

But they didn't believe him, of course. How could they? Even Riff himself knew it looked suspicious. He was the only one to survive; that made it inevitably clear that he was responsible. He wouldn't have been panicked as his family had and therefore able to get out of the house before the fire became too fierce.

Sometimes he even questioned his own liability. Perhaps he had set the fire. But why? Because Clyde ran away with Lucinda on their wedding? No, he'd gotten over that. He loved Lucinda in his own way, but he knew that she required too much attention and he was far too busy. Their relationship would have cooled too soon.

And Clyde truly loved her. He was good to her. So, no. That was not the reason. There was no reason because he'd done nothing wrong. God was merely on his side. It was not time for Riff to die, so He had not taken him. Was it not that simple?

Or, God just wanted him to suffer. He'd been too ambitious, and so he'd neglected his family and the people who loved him. If he'd been more aware, if he'd paid more attention, this would not have happened.

Well, a sinner like him most certainly didn't deserve to live while his parents and brother had died. He didn't deserve life, and he didn't want it. What good was living anyway, anymore? The doctors all thought he was guilty. And unless he agreed to setting the fire - even though he didn't, he was sure - he'd wither away in this white-padded cell until he truly went mad. And if he agreed, he would be sent to prison. Neither option was all that favourable.

In the lavatory - though it was not so much a lavatory as a stall with a toilet and sink - he spotted a razor sitting on the porcelain ledge beside the faucet, left for him to shave with. Even here, outward appearances mattered.

Twirling the razor between his left forefinger and thumb, Riff rolled up his sleeve and pressed the blade to his wrist. He clenched his teeth as the sharp edge sliced through his pale flesh and suppressed the urge to vomit when a spurt of red struck the mirror. He'd cut deeper than he thought.

It was that time again; the time for a visit from the doctors. As the door opened slowly, for it was so heavy, Riff dropped the razor and began pulling at the toilet paper, pressing it to his wrist. If they discovered what he was doing, surely he would be taken to a place even more isolated than this…

.

When they ask why he'd done it, he likely couldn't tell them why. _Because life holds no more meaning for me, _may have been the reply. Or, it may have back when he was strapped down with leather belts to a dreadfully uncomfortable bed with only the light streaming in from the barred windows to provide him comfort.

_It was the guilt, _he'd say now. _I could not accept Riffael's guilt. So, I killed him, I suppose you could say. But now, there is a reason for me, Riff, to live. My purpose is to protect this little boy, the one who returned to me my life. _

.

**Disclaimer One: **Riffael Raffit doesn't belong to me.

**Disclaimer Two:** Sorry, I forgot to mention last time that Alexis and Augusta Hargreaves are property of Kaori Yuki


End file.
